”I think you’ve lost your mind!
I think you’ve completely lost your mind!”, he said.
My husband.
Striding upset from window to window, looking out over the garden.
”I think you’ve lost your mind. Here we buy a grown-up garden, and then you cut down and dig up everything”
I tried to tell him about the garden I had in my head. About roses and lilies and iris and thyme and sage and syringe and guelder rose and rhododendron and grapes and apricot trees and clematis and butterfly bush and geranium and tulips and daffodils and catmint and oregano and wild strawberries and hosta and lavender and Sweet William and honeysuckle and peonies and giant bellflower and azaleas and windflowers and!
That I didn’t settle with elm shrubs, white cedar, lawns and paving.
That I had to destroy in order to create.
A few years have past.
Now my Garden exists in reality.
It’s been a long time since he last said I’d lost my mind.
Now he says:
”Darling, I was thinking of taking a walk in the Garden. Would you like to join me?”







